Chronicles of the Disgustingly Wealthy
by glass-jars
Summary: The Domini family is fabulously wealthy, and Sam sometimes cannot wrap his head around how spoiled Gabriel Domini is.
1. 1: Have you tried

Sam worked in tech support at Domini Enterprises, a large company in California with branches all over the west coast. They specialized in living buildings, LEED certified architecture and the like, but also dabbled in almost everything—cellular technology, electric motors, sustainable food practices, graphic design... Most importantly, Nicholas and Michael Domini had inherited the business from their father, and their brother, Gabriel, worked in the design department. He didn't _do_ a whole lot, but being the middle child of the owner basically ensured his continued employment.

Sam knew two things:

1) Nicholas Domini—or as literally everyone called him: Lucifer—might have been the most unassumingly terrifying human being on the face of the planet.

2) Gabriel Domini was super annoying.

It was July. Sam sat in his cramped cubicle in front of his computer. His job, generally, was to help people out when they forgot how to use the printer or accidentally downloaded a virus when they misused Google. This particular day, in the nasty heat of the Los Angeles summer, his phone rang. And the caller ID nearly gave Sam a heart-attack: Domini, G.

"Why... am I...?" Sam shook his head and answered the phone and almost before he could get out a professional, "Hello?" Gabriel cut him off.

"Tech support? Yeah, I kinda dropped my laptop and I'd _love_ it if you could come fix it. Seeya in a few." And then he hung up.

Sam groaned. Rich people and their egocentrism never failed to drive him wild. Especially this particular rich person. He straightened his stupid blue-green polo shirt. At least it wasn't yellow or something. He grabbed his little box of stuff—just in case—and headed to the elevator.

Gabriel's office was on the fifteenth floor.

Sam knocked lightly before swinging the door open, and said, "Hey. I'm Sam, with tech support."

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Hey!" He snatched something off of his desk—all twisted metal and glass. Sam realized it was a MacBook. It looked like it had been run over several times by a truck.

"Mr. Domini, I can't..." He gestured lamely at the destroyed laptop. "I can't fix that. You need a new computer." The thing was literally bent in half and the screen held more cracks than glass. "How far did you drop it?"

"Out the window."

"Out the—" Sam lifted his hands to his face, rubbing his fingers along his eyes. "That's... fifteen stories." He raised his eyebrows. Glanced down at Gabriel with the most incredulous expression he could muster and planted his hands on his hips. "You dropped your computer from the fifteenth floor and you expect me to be able to fix it?"

Gabriel shrugged, with a thoughtful yet totally annoying smile. "Not really."

"Why'd you call me here?" Sam crossed his arms.

Gabriel shrugged again. "I was bored and I wanted a second opinion or something. You sounded nicer over the phone."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, well..." He gave a short wave of his hand, exasperated. "Just... Buy a new computer. I'm going back to my job, Mr. Domini."

"No, call me Gabriel. You're Sam, right?"

Sam turned around and left.

Gabriel began to bug him over the slightest things.

Charlie got a call for support the next week, stood up, and leaned into Sam's cubicle. "Mr. Gabriel Domini is asking for you, Sam. He says he dropped his phone in the toilet." The week after that, Gabriel managed to secure Sam's individual number, and said he needed Sam's help to install new ink in his printer. The next week he couldn't figure out how to connect to the internet with his new smartphone. The week after that it was a busted Bluetooth.

And so on. For at least two months.

Until Sam finally snapped and asked, "Why me?!" Standing in Gabriel's office with the sun streaming through the tall windows, glaring at the smooth wood of Gabriel's desk and the too-shiny white buttons on his suit jacket. "Why are you bothering me?"

Gabriel immediately grinned. "'Cause you're funny when you're annoyed, and I like your sass." He leaned his cheek on one fisted hand, with his elbow pressed against the desktop. He managed to remain assertive even while looking up at Sam from where he sat. Exuded an energy of being completely obnoxious.

Sam frowned and rolled his eyes. "I'm not funny."

"I think you are." Gabriel beamed up at him. "Even when you don't mean to be."

Sam tried to frown more deeply.

"Do you want to be friends, Sam?"

Sam blinked. "What?" He stared down at Gabriel.

"Friends." Gabriel leaned back in his chair, kicking his polished leather shoes up on the edge of his desk. "You know, people who speak on occasion and enjoy one another's company. Tell each other bad jokes and drink together on Valentine's Day." He smirked.

Sam shifted where he stood. He bit his thumbnail. "Fine." He pointed at Gabriel with raised eyebrows. "But I'm not gonna just be your personal tech slave, okay? Normal support calls. If you want to hang out you can call me outside of work. Deal?"

"Deal." Gabriel winked at him.

Sam rolled his eyes.


	2. 2: Drinking the Aurora

"What?"

Gabriel gave Sam an indulgent smile, as he leaned in the doorway. "I said," He raised one eyebrow. "'We're going to Finland. Pack your bags.'"

"Yeah—" Sam rubbed one hand across his face, down from his forehead over his closed eye and across his cheek, and sighed. "Yeah, I heard you but... _What_?" He tugged Gabriel fully into his apartment and shut the door with a loud click. "I can't just go to Finland on a moment's notice!" His hair stuck up when he ran one hand back through it agitatedly.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Sure you can, kiddo!" He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and threw himself down onto the rather ratty couch. "I already talked to Nicky, and he talked to your boss, and she says it's—"

"You _what_?!"

Gabriel resisted the urge to repeat his previous eye roll and settled for an amused, yet slightly pitying expression. "I had Nicky tell Naomi to give you the next three weeks off for Christmas. She said you can have as much time as you'd like. So... No issues. I'm taking you to Finland, and we are going to get drunk and watch the Aurora Borealis together and it's going to be fantastic." He kicked his feet—shod in slick leather wingtips—up on the coffee table. "No arguments."

Sam pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "You pulled the _family_ card? You spoiled brat."

"I'm hurt, Sammich, that you would accuse me of such a heinous—"

"Ten minutes." Sam finally looked at Gabriel—at his perfectly fitted cream-colored suit, and his chocolate tie (like, literally printed with the pattern of squares of chocolate in a very careful texture that was surprisingly classy), and his tri-colored goddamn $270 shoes. He looked at him and then looked at the ceiling. "Give me ten minutes, and I'll pack."

Gabriel just barely managed to hold back from doing some obnoxious victory dance, and instead pumped his fist into the air with a whoop. "To the land of Santa Clause and magnetic shit!"

Sam heaved a sigh, as he did so often in Gabe's presence, and slipped into his bedroom to start shoving stuff into a suitcase. Underwear? Check. Everything else? Check. Probably. He remembered to stick a woolen pink hat with earflaps, which Dean had gotten him as a joke last Christmas, into the bag along with some striped gloves and a scarf that must have been nearly as long as he was tall. He surveyed his surroundings. Toiletries? Done. Coat? Oh right, that would be important.

A knock came a t his bedroom door before Gabriel swung it open with a creak. "You're too slow!" He leaned on the doorknob with a comical pout. "What's taking so long?"

"I uh... All I have is like, one sweater and a windbreaker." Sam chewed on his thumbnail. "I'm not prepared, Gabriel."

Gabe pouted even harder. "But... Santa!"

"Uh—"

Gabriel snapped his fingers. "Doesn't matter. We'll just buy anything you don't have." He grinned, as if he had solved every world issue in a matter of seconds, and pranced over to grab Sam's hand. Sam snatched his arm away with pursed lips.

"Gabriel, I can't just let you spend money on me." He crossed his arms. "Seriously. The trip to Europe alone is expensive enough, but bribing my boss and buying me a bunch of crap?" He shook his head.

Gabe scoffed, and reached for Sam's arm again. "Saaaaam," He leaned back, practically hanging from Sam's elbow, and beamed a smile at about 10,000 watts. "I wear thirty dollar underwear." He continued over Sam's attempt at a protest. "A coat and a pair of boots won't set me back hardly anything! I've got the money and I don't wanna go all alone!" The pout came back, with raised eyebrows and wide gold eyes.

"..." Sam sighed, again. "Fine. Fine—" He pressed his hand flat over Gabriel's mouth to silence him. "Just this once, though. Okay?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes but nodded.

Sam pulled his hand back. "Good." He smiled.

...

Sam tried not to look like a fish out of water but... Really, the way he gaped... He knew he probably looked like a moron. But Gabriel seemed not to notice, and tugged him along the slick aisles, occasionally stopping to poke at some blazer or necktie that caught his eye. Sam leaned forward and hissed, "Gabe, I can't wear something from here! The friggin' socks alone probably cost more than my apartment!" He attempted to dislodge himself from Gabriel's grip, but Gabe's (admittedly stubby) fingers held fast to his wrist.

"Nonsense!" Gabriel shot him a grin over his shoulder, and finally stopped at a clean white counter. "Only the best for everyone's favorite sasquatch!" He turned to the woman behind the desk, and politely enquired as to what the best things to buy for sub-zero temperatures might be. They spoke, back and forth, smooth and calculating, until Gabriel was satisfied with her answer. And then he just took off and began to gather seemingly random things into his arms from all over.

They left the store with a parka, three cable-knit sweaters, wool socks, long johns and only God knew what else. Sam insisted on carrying it all, since Gabriel spent so much money on it. That didn't stop him from complaining though. He grumbled and sweated his way down the LA sidewalk until he could shove everything—with much struggling and frustration—into the miniscule trunk of Gabe's Lexus LFA. Also known as the most expensive and needlessly extravagant car Sam had ever had the chance to touch, at over $375,000.

He tried not to breathe when he slid into the passenger seat. He did, however, almost fall over getting in, and found himself just a bit... cramped. (Truly the perfect car for Gabriel—flashy, expensive, and kind of small inside. Pastel purple, with black interior. Fucking ridiculous. Dean would shit himself if he ever saw it.)

Gabriel, on the other hand, tossed himself into the driver's seat as if it were nothing more than a park bench, and swerved straight into traffic without bothering to buckle up or even turn on his blinker. Sam held in a yelp.

He wasn't so successful when Gabe turned practically ninety degrees around a corner without slowing—in fact, Sam half suspected he might have peed himself a little bit. Gabriel was, without a doubt, the most terrifying driver on the planet.

As could be demonstrated by the fact that he was going seventy miles per hour through downtown Los Angeles.

Thankfully, they didn't die on the way to the airport.

Sam found himself in what was most definitely a private jet less than an hour later. He sat stiff in his seat and stared out the window, feeling a bit sick. Muttered to himself, "It's like being friends with Tony friggin' Stark."

"I'm much better looking than Tony Stark." Gabriel sauntered into the space with a smirk and a flute of champagne. He winked, and sat across from Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I think most of the country would disagree, Gabe. Considering Robert Downey Jr. is like..." Sam made a thoughtful face, with pursed lips. "Oh I dunno, one of the hottest men alive?" He glared at Gabriel.

With a snort, Gabe drained half his glass. "Agree to disagree."

"Gabriel, why me?"

Gabriel looked startled for a moment. "Why you, what?"

Sam sighed. "Why choose me to spend all your money on and take to Finland?" He returned his gaze to the runway, as the seatbelt sign flashed. "Why not take one of your rich friends, who are probably much more interesting than me?"

"Sam," And that was how Sam could tell Gabriel was being serious for the time being—no nickname. "Listen, you are interesting." He smiled, seemingly genuinely. "And to be honest... None of those other people are really... friends." He gave a shrug. "Sure, we _act_ civilized, but really each of us is waiting in the wings to poison one another."

Sam frowned, and glanced at Gabriel. "What about Kali? Isn't Christmas for, like... romantic couple stuff?"

"Eh," Gabe waved his hand, careless and nonchalant. "She dumped me two months ago."

Sam blinked. "Two mo—really?" His forehead crinkled, and he focused on Gabriel's shoes. "But you didn't tell me. And you've been acting the same as always."

Gabriel laughed into his champagne, and slung one leg over the other, and leaned back with half-lidded eyes. "I didn't mind so much. We'd been drifting for a while, and both had our eyes on some different prizes, you know?" He tapped a fingertip against his glass with a soft grin.

"Yeah?" Sam nodded, and glanced out the window—he realized they had already taken off and he hadn't noticed in the slightest. Gabriel raised one eyebrow at him with a smooth nod, and followed his lead in looking out at the dwindling ground below. They sat in silence for a very long time, until Gabriel slithered to his feet and disappeared to some other area of the plane. Probably the bathroom.

Sam drowsed in his seat.

"Your neck'll get a cramp if you sleep like that, sugar."

Sam flinched, and blinked rapidly, looking up at Gabriel. He let out an oh-so-intelligent, "Wha?" and rubbed his face, and smoothed a hand back through his hair.

Gabriel laughed at him.

...

They got to their destination—a rather spacious cabin owned by Gabriel's family—with the sun high in the sky, and clouds scattered across. The gold plaque on the front door read "Domini, Nicholas." The place technically belonged to Gabriel's oldest brother, Nick—or as literally everyone called him, Lucifer—but Gabe had asked to use it for a few weeks over Christmas.

Golden light, similar to the color of Gabriel's eyes, spilled out over the snow when the doors swung open. Sam shuffled his way inside with a shiver. Stayed in his coat and boots and hat and gloves for at least a full minute, until Gabriel tugged at him and urged him to strip. Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled, and removed layers until he stood in the spacious hall in nothing more than jeans, socks and a t-shirt.

The interior of the "cabin" (more of a wooden mansion, really) was comfortably warm, and well-lit. Wood floors everywhere. The living room however, had sinfully soft brown carpeting and was dominated by a large brick fireplace at one end. The fire flickered strong and bright. Gabriel slid onto the leather couch with a massive yawn, and slumped down.

"What time is it?"

Sam's mouth twisted and he looked down at his phone. "Like three am, in California." He tapped out a quick text message to Dean, to tell him they'd gotten to Helsinki safely. (Dean had been pissed when Sam informed him he'd be missing the family's Christmas get-together, but he understood how impossible negotiations with the Domini family could be.)

"No—" Gabriel waved an arm. "What time's it _here_? I can't see the clock."

Sam cast around for some kind of timepiece, and saw a tall wooden grandfather clock in the hallway near the door. Its face glinted in the cold sunlight. "Noon."

Gabe swore. He rolled onto his stomach so his face squished into the leather upholstery and grumbled to himself about jet lag and time zones. Sam laughed, then yawned until he thought his jaw would snap. On the couch, Gabriel groaned, and slid off onto the floor before standing and shuffling past Sam into the hallway. "The sun'll set in a couple of hours." He pushed his hair back from his face. "Meanwhile, I'm going to bed. Choose any bedroom. Bathroom is second left down the hall." So saying, he took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into the first doorway he saw.

Sam scratched the back of his neck. Glanced back into the main room, at the fire. He wondered if perhaps he ought to put it out or stoke it or something... But a tiny maid—seemingly appearing from nowhere—shook her head with a smile, and shooed him toward the stairs. He went without much further prodding.

The bedroom was, simply put... Magnificent.

King-sized bed, thick blue-green velvet curtains over the huge window, pastel blue walls, blue-gray carpet that—once he removed his socks—felt like walking on... on rabbit fur or something. It was so soft. The bedding matched the curtains in shades of teal and turquoise with little bits of soft blue or white here and there, and there were about five thousand pillows. Solid wood wardrobe painted white. White bedframe. Very simple light fixtures and one lamp with a base of blown glass.

Basically, Sam had never seen a bedroom more luxurious. His own home paled in comparison. For the millionth time he wondered how he came to befriend one of the sons of the most wealthy family in Los Angeles. Well. He knew how... Damn Gabriel and his blatant abuse of technology.

That was two years ago, when they met for the first time.

And now, there Sam stood, in a winter home in Finland, in some extravagant bedroom, with his stuff piled in front of an Egyptian cotton-covered King. He rubbed his eyes and threw himself into the bed without bothering to do anything more than take off his jeans. He turned off the lamp and the room went dark, but for the slight glow of light seeping around the edges of the heavy curtains.

...

"Wait, so... Where are we going?" Sam rubbed his forehead groggily, slumped in the seat of the bus, with his ear pressed against the cold window. He pulled his gloves off and shoved them into his pocket. Gabriel grinned beside him, something mischievous in his eyes.

"It's a surprise."

"Oh yeah?" Sam raised both eyebrows with disdain. "You're making me go on a ten hour bus ride but you won't tell me what for? We just got into Helsinki yesterday!"

Gabriel pouted. "It'll be worth it, I swear!" He drew one leg up to rest his chin on his knee, with his foot resting against the edge of his seat. Brought out the pout again, with his face all scrunched up and ridiculous. Sam swatted his shoulder with a snort.

"Okay, fine." He looked out the window. "But couldn't we have flown or something?"

Gabriel shook his head emphatically, and smiled. "This way's more scenic!" He fastened a hand on Sam's knee, leaning closer. "And just look at it this way..." He paused. "At least _I'm_ not driving us there."

"Oh God." Sam laughed. "I think if you drove in the snow we'd end up dead in less than an hour." He pried Gabriel's hand off of his leg with a roll of his eyes, and returned his attention to their passing surroundings. He had to admit, it was very pretty. Gabriel leaned against him to look out the window as well, and Sam didn't bother trying to dislodge him—Gabriel could be quite the clingy little octopus when he wanted.

...

Sam shoved his stuff onto the bed—the bed with zebra striped covers and red pillows—and sat down with a sigh. "A glass igloo?" He looked up at the sky—already long dark, spattered with stars—through the latticed glass frame of their little igloo. Hotel Kakslauttanen. Northern Finland. Almost $500 a night for two people. He rubbed his face. "That _is_ pretty cool." They'd already eaten dinner, in Saariselkä, and now Sam just wanted to sleep.

Gabriel tossed himself down on the other bed and stretched out with his arms behind his head, and stared up out of the windows. "Told ya it'd be worth the trip." He glanced over at Sam with a contented grin, and back out at the stars. "I hope we see the Northern Lights."

"Ten bucks we don't." Sam lay down on his stomach, and buried his face in his pillows.

Gabriel laughed, quietly. "You're on, Winchester."

The sun didn't rise until at least ten the next morning, so Sam woke when he just wasn't tired anymore. The sky was beginning to be pink at the edges, and snow drifted lightly through the air. Gabriel snuffled and shifted to his side with a mumble, when Sam accidentally slammed the tiny bathroom door shut. Sam made a face, and attempted to be slightly quieter while he changed into his clothes.

The sun made its way higher and Gabriel grumbled, pulling his blanket over his face. But his phone beeped, so he rolled out of bed and snatched it in his hands and turned off the alarm he'd set. Then he grinned up at Sam, and his grin spoke of nothing good. Sam rolled his eyes and prepared himself for whatever ridiculous plans Gabriel had.

But they were surprisingly mundane.

"We going snow-shoeing." Gabriel planted his palms on his knees. Beamed as wide as his face would allow, with twinkly eyes full of excitement.

Sam scoffed. "_You_? You're going to exercise? For fun?" He smirked. "I'm shocked."

"Shut up." Gabriel kicked him, and dug through his bag for more suitable clothing than pajama pants. He found what he wanted, and began to drag on layers and layers of fabric. "For one thing, there's a snowshoe trail not too far from here we can get to by bus, and for another thing I exercise plenty!"

Sam shot him a grin, and leaned back a little on his bed. "Oh yeah, I can tell how fit you are from your pudge." He winked. "But I'm sure walking from your car to the elevator counts as a pretty intense workout for you."

Gabriel gave Sam a scandalized expression, and turned his back to Sam as he pulled on his jacket. "I take offense at your accusations." He buttoned the coat all the way up to his collar, and tugged on a thermal jacket over that.

"It's not an accusation if it's true." Sam began to tug on his own gear, and did it much faster than Gabriel. They made their way out into the snow, and Gabriel didn't bother to respond to Sam. Just held his gloved hands up to his face and used them to blow warm breath onto his nose. Sam rolled his eyes and ducked back inside for half a second to find what he needed. He popped back out into the cold air and jammed a white, glittery knit cap onto Gabriel's head. "Don't forget your hat, dweeb."

Gabriel stuck his tongue out, but muttered, "Thanks," and trudged toward the main building with an expression of determination on his pink face that meant he was after food. Sam trailed after him, and once actually prevented him from face planting into the snow when he tripped on his own feet. They got into the main building—much warmer—and Gabriel rubbed his red nose.

Sam muttered, "You're gonna fall down and die when we go shoeing," under his breath.

Gabriel shot him a glare.

...

Gabriel looked like a marshmallow with miniature sleds strapped to his feet. The little pom-pom on his hat, sticking out from under his hood, did not make him look any less dorky. Sam grinned, and hooked his arm around Gabe's shoulders. Chuckled to himself. Gabriel looked up at him with an annoyed expression.

"What's so funny?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing, just..." He snorted. "Your little ensemble is pretty adorable."

"Shut it, Winchester. Your hat is pink." Gabriel glared at him.

"Yeah, but it's not _sparkly_."

Gabriel just rolled his eyes in reply, and struggled forward through the snow. It crunched beneath his feet, as the sun descended from its peak in the sky. Sam continued to smile as he followed after Gabriel with his hands shoved in his pockets. Flecks of snow whirled around a bit. The snowflakes thickened as they walked, and as the sky slowly darkened.

They passed a guided snowshoe trip, and waved at the other cold people with awkward footwear, and decided they would continue just a little longer, past the marked trail. The sun began to set in earnest—which was weird for Sam, considering it was barely past one in the afternoon. Clouds gathered in the sky and they squinted as it snowed harder.

Once, they even passed a white mountain hare, and it stared at them with big black eyes.

The moon began to rise.

Gabriel's stomach grumbled. "Ugh," He burrowed his face deeper into his scarf, and pulled his hood down tighter over his hat. "Let's eat and then go back." The silvery moonlight made him pop out from the shadows, and he looked a little like a snowman as he stopped walking and dropped his backpack onto the snow.

"Good idea." Sam rummaged in his own bag, and pulled out his thermos. The coffee in it was cold, but not frozen. He drank, while Gabriel gnawed on a piece of chocolate and some smoked salmon at the same time. He pulled a disgusted face, and decided to wait until he'd finished his fish to eat the chocolate.

Sam had a bag of carob chips and cashews, dried fish, and Ritz crackers for himself. He handed off a few crackers to Gabriel, and took a swig from his admittedly foul-tasting coffee. Now that they stood still the air felt a lot chillier, and Sam stamped his feet against the snow. He looked up at the still-dim stars, as they began to peek out between clouds. The breeze picked up. Sam shivered.

"Ah, shit." Gabriel reached down to the snow—he'd dropped his chocolate. He almost overbalanced, but Sam grabbed his hood just before he had a chance to fall face-first into the snow and hauled him to a more stable position, then crouched down to snatch his snack for him.

"Be more careful, Gabriel. You're gonna hurt yourself." Sam nibbled on one more cracker. "The terrain out here isn't exactly friendly." He nudged Gabriel with one hand, back in the direction they had come. Some of their track had been wiped out by the fluctuating breeze and steadily thickening snow, but for the most part the trail remained clear.

Gabriel scoffed, but went in the direction Sam pushed him. "I'm perfectly capable of moving on my own." But he didn't shy away from Sam's hand settled firmly on his shoulder.

Sam rolled his eyes, and was about to say something probably insulting, when a sudden gust of wind sent a burst of snow into his eyes and caused him to sway somewhat while he walked. He tried not to stumble in his temporary blindness and kept a firm grip on Gabriel.

Gravity had other ideas, however. The wind hissed loud and far stronger than before and suddenly Sam clutched at air. He swore and wiped the snow from his eyes, at the sound of crunching snow and rustling fabric and a string of expletives that meant Gabriel had definitely tripped.

Gabe pushed himself up from where he'd fallen, rubbing melting snow from his face, and shaking it out of his hood and scarf. He rolled onto his back, burying his (thankfully waterproof) bag into the drift as he did so, and hissed. Sam crouched beside him.

"You okay?"

Gabriel grimaced, and let out a sigh. "The fucking snowshoe caught something when I went down." His voice wobbled. He pushed himself up on his elbows and eyed his foot and its sled-like attachment with disdain. Moved his foot—and immediately blanched with a sharp indrawn breath. "Ohhhh shit." He sank back down, staring at the sky. Cursed under his breath again.

"What?" Sam frowned, and his forehead wrinkled between his eyebrows.

Gabriel took a deep breath and let it out in a gust of white steam. The snow whipped around them harder. He muttered, "How much weight can you carry?" Refused to meet Sam's eyes.

"Please tell me you're joking." Sam tried to catch Gabe's gaze. "Gabriel—You _didn't_..."

Gabriel let out a short, barked laugh. "I don't think it's _broken_. So, there's that." He shifted where he lay and pulled a strange, tight face. "Although, what do I know?"

Sam swore. "Fine." He maneuvered so he could drag Gabriel into a more convenient position, and helped him shrug out of his pack. "You hold this, okay?" Then he pulled Gabriel into his arms bridal-style and gave one big heave to get them upright. He almost fell the second he stood, but managed to regain his balance at the last second, with one arm hooked under Gabriel's knees and the other around his lower back.

"Such a big, strong man." Gabriel patted Sam's arm appreciatively through his layers.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he growled. "Or I'll leave you behind to freeze to death."

Gabriel fell silent, occasionally wracked with violent shivers that sent his teeth clattering, and leaned his head against Sam's chest, humming to himself in an attempt at distraction. Their surroundings had gone darker, with the moon hidden behind a heavy screen of clouds and rushing snow. The wind just about screeched through what few wizened trees they passed. Neither saw any signs of life. Just a lot of snow.

And their disappearing footprints.

Any sign of the main trail had already disappeared in the monotonous whiteness surrounding them, and their footprints remained as little more than slight dents in the accumulating snow. The driving wind hindered them further, and Sam had to pause several times to avoid falling in the uneven terrain—his height didn't help either, as it gave more bulk for the wind to push at.

But he pressed on.

Until he couldn't any longer.

Beside the fact that his arms felt like lead after twenty minutes... He could no longer see any kind of path. Everything seemed to be a blur of gray and white and he hadn't the slightest clue when it happened. Just... a slow transition from light snow to an outright blizzard that wiped out all landmarks in a smear of glittering white wind. There were no footprints—even the ones directly behind him vanished in a matter of seconds—and the few trees had been coated over with ice and snow, and the sky hung obscured in clouds.

They never should have left the marked trail.

He shivered—he'd been doing so almost constantly for at least the past ten minutes, and Gabriel hadn't stopped since he fell.

Sam shook himself, and tucked Gabriel more tightly to his body. "You doing okay?"

Gabriel continued to tremble, and said nothing. Only made a soft whining noise and shoved his face against the front of Sam's coat in the hopes that he might obtain some modicum of added warmth. It did little to help. Sam's teeth chattered. He took a breath and it sent an ache through his lungs, but he shrugged it off and headed forward again, through the beginnings of a vicious storm.

Gabriel clung to him.

He stumbled and nearly lost his footing.

Something flashed out in the snow. Glass it looked like. Sam nearly went down again. He drew closer to that tiny white spark, and almost whimpered with relief when dark wood came into focus and he saw through the snow well enough to make out a small hut. He hurried closer—jostled awkwardly with the door, eventually half-kicking it open while he tried not to drop Gabriel—and burst into the little log building. He shook himself, and set Gabe on the floor as gently and as quickly as he could before slamming the door shut.

Sam grabbed Gabriel's pack and dropped to his knees beside the black wood-burning stove. He shoved a few pieces of wood of varying sizes into it, and dug a book of matches from Gabriel's bag. The match lit on the second try, and he tossed it into the stove. Luckily, it caught, and the fire began to grow. He closed the stove.

With great care, Sam moved Gabriel to the one little bed in the corner, and arranged him so that his leg lay at a somewhat more comfortable angle. He removed his snowshoes and boots—careful not to jostle his left foot too badly. Gabriel still let out a shallow hiss between his teeth. But soon Sam had both he and Gabriel stripped out of their wet clothes down to their dry layers underneath—long johns, undershirts and the like—and had wrapped a thermal blanket around his own shoulders while the other covered Gabriel. He found the first aid kit, and wrapped Gabe's ankle (red and swollen) around and around with a stretchy, tan-colored bandage.

Gabriel whined, and covered his face with his arms. But he managed to keep still, despite the pain being severe enough to make his eyes spill over with tears. Sam propped Gabriel's leg up on a folded sweater, and gave his _good_ ankle a reassuring squeeze before tossing a dry rag at his head. (For his wet cheeks.)

Sam rubbed his face, grateful for the heat from the fire. He was sore all over though, and his fingers, toes, nose... All felt a little numb still. He pushed his hair out of his face and slid off of the bed to sift through their belongings. Enough food to last for another day, thankfully. Some extra clothing. Coffee filters and a small kettle. Phones. He slid his phone open. No service. Gabriel's—no service either, and almost dead. He turned them off to prolong the battery life and set them back in the bags before returning to the bed and slipping in between Gabriel and the wall. Best to share body heat, even with the spreading warmth from the stove.

Gabriel squirmed closer with a soft, unhappy noise, and Sam rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around him.

...

Sam woke long before sunrise, cold. But not frozen. Embers smoldered in the stove all red-orange and stuttering. He went to stoke the fire, and sat in front of the woodstove rather than return to bed. He glanced out the single window above the bed, and saw nothing but the continued blur of darkness and whiteness. The wind hummed and rattled what it could. Sam sighed, and pulled his knees up, and rested his chin on them.

Gabriel woke when Sam began to skewer marshmallows on his pocketknife and hold them close to the open door of the stove. No doubt smelled the burning sugar, as Sam shoved carob chips and shreds of chocolate into them and smashed them between Ritz crackers and set them on a tin plate by his feet. Sam smiled at him, and Gabriel gave him a sleepy grin with his head turned to the side.

"S'mores for breakfast?" He ran his fingers through his hair and squinted at Sam. "Are you bribing me, or something?"

Sam laughed, quietly. "Not exactly." He shut the stove door, and grabbed his plate of improvised s'mores as well as one of their remaining baggies of smoked salmon, and joined Gabriel on the bed—he was careful not to jostle his ankle. "This is basically all we have, since you're terrible at planning ahead. And, I figure since you're in pain... Might as well give you a treat." He helped Gabriel sit up (Gabe winced when he moved his foot) and set the plate in his lap.

"Oh, I see." Gabriel tittered to himself. He crunched on one of the more melty s'mores and hummed while he ate. Sam focused his attention on smoked fish with a roll of his eyes and a snort.

They spoke very little. Mostly listened to the blizzard, and to the crunch of crackers, and the snap of the fire. Every once in a while, Sam prodded the flames and fed them a little more wood, and Gabriel watched him from the bed.

Eventually, Gabriel spoke up, in a soft voice. "Sam?" He was staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah?" Sam frowned. Gabriel's expression was drawn and tight.

Gabe cracked half a smile. "Did we bring any painkillers?"

"Why—is your ankle hurting worse?"

Gabriel laughed. "Worse?" He dug the heels of his palms against his eyes with a sigh. "No, I don't think that's _possible_. I just can't handle it anymore." He covered his face with his arms, much like he had the previous day. "I didn't fall asleep for hours last night, it hurts so bad."

"_What_?" Sam glanced down at Gabriel's foot. The ankle was still red, though it seemed less swollen. His toes looked a little too pale to be normal. Sam ghosted his fingers along the edge of the bandaging. "Why didn't you tell me it was that bad?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I didn't wanna bother you, okay?" He continued to stare at the ceiling. "I didn't want you to worry—it's just a sprain, right?"

"Well, I'm worrying _anyway_." Sam leaned closer, and moved to try to see Gabriel's ankle at a better angle. He touched his toes and they felt more cold than he'd like. "It's probably only a severe sprain, but... Just—Can you feel your toes?"

"They're kind of tingly." Gabriel groused. "And my pinky toe is numb."

"That can't be good."

Gabriel snorted. "Way to state the obvious, sasquatch." He reached one hand up to run his fingers back through his hair with a grumble. He hitched his good leg up, laying his foot flat along the bed, and slung one arm across his eyes.

Sam sighed. "Maybe we can change the way it's resting so it hurts less?"

"Mm..." Gabriel peeked out from under his arm. "Go ahead, but if you fuck it up worse I'll make Nicky fire you."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Sure." He shifted around, and slipped one hand under Gabriel's ankle and the other over the top of his foot, and tilted Gabriel's leg a little bit.

Almost immediately Gabriel gasped out, "Stop." Sam glanced at him, and saw his fingers trembling. "Do not—" A reedy, thin laugh escaped his throat. "Just—Don't. _Don't_."

Sam backed off right away, letting Gabriel's leg lay the way it was. "Alright, alright." He held his hands up in surrender, and scooted around to lay beside Gabriel. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be that bad."

"You and me both, bucko." Gabriel let his arms fall away from his forehead—he was pale. He attempted to smile at Sam but couldn't quite make it. Closed his eyes instead, and turned his face away, looking miserable. Sam reached his hand out and settled it on Gabriel's stomach. He splayed his fingers out against the fabric of Gabriel's shirt, and moved his hand a little back and forth, soothing and light. Gabriel hummed, turning his head back to catch Sam's eyes.

"You tryin' to summon a genie?" He smirked.

Sam scoffed. "I'm trying to be nice, you jerk." He flicked Gabriel's ribcage.

Gabe shook his head, still smiling. He raised his right hand and laid it across the back of Sam's much-larger hand. "Thanks. I mean it." His expression sobered the slightest bit. "Without you, I'd... well." He raised his eyebrows. "I don't even wanna think about that."

"Me either. So let's change the subject from you dying in the snow to something more pleasant." Sam gave Gabriel a pointed look.

Gabriel laughed. "Point taken." He tapped his middle finger against Sam's knuckles with a soft grin.

For a long time, they didn't speak. They seemed to do that a lot. Just sit or lay around wordlessly enjoying each other's presence, listening to the wind, watching the fire. Gabe seemed to melt into the bed, as Sam ran his hand up and down his side, slow and hypnotic. His eyes drifted closed. Sam let his hand still.

"Sam?" Gabriel opened one eye.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Thanks, for always putting up with my bullshit."

Sam let himself frown softly. "Hey," He reached up to push a stray hair out of Gabriel's face. And didn't bother to move his hand—kept his fingers pressed against Gabriel's scalp, threaded through his hair with his palm resting against Gabriel's cheek. "You wouldn't be Gabriel without at least a little bit of bullshit." He winked.

Gabriel couldn't help but laugh. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right." Sam grinned.

...

"Gabriel, wake up."

Gabe groaned, and cracked his eyes open, forehead creasing with annoyance. "Whuzzat?" He swatted at Sam's hand on his shoulder and peered at him. Glared, to be more accurate, with eyes hazy from sleep. Sam grinned down at him.

"The storm cleared." He nodded toward the window. "And—well... There's something amazing." As he spoke, a brighter green glow augmented the clear white moonlight streaming through the window beside the bed. Gabriel frowned, but let Sam maneuver him closer so he could look out—ended up propped up against Sam's chest with his arms wrapped around his torso and his long legs framing him in.

In the sky, the whorls of the aurora shifted back and forth slowly. Like water under a breeze, sand at the dry end of a beach, a ribbon dangling from an open car window, the colors of emeralds and jade edged in rust. Curls of wood and whirlpools through the stars. They lit the snow green and set it all sparkling and dipped and shuddered and Gabriel stared and stared and stared with Sam's palms hot against his ribcage.

A ripple of red and violet slunk across the edge of the sky, all leisure and grace.

"Sam..."

"What?" Sam tightened his arms around Gabriel, tilting his head.

"You owe me ten bucks."

"...What?"

Gabriel scratched his nose, and smirked. "You bet me ten dollars that we wouldn't see the Northern Lights." He tilted his head back, saying, "And here we are." His smirk softened, as he looked up at Sam's face from his odd angle. Sam laughed, and the way his cheeks dimpled had to be one of the most adorable things Gabriel had seen. He looked back out the window.

"Beautiful..."

Sam rested his chin atop Gabriel's hair. "Yeah, it is."

Gabriel shook his head. "Wasn't talking about that." He snorted. "Never mind."

"What?" Sam poked his side with a grin.

"Nothing!" Gabriel elbowed him, unable to stop smiling for even a moment.

Sam stuck his face in the crook of Gabriel's neck, and Gabriel flinched at his cold nose, and yelped. Sam laughed again, muffled against Gabriel's shirt. "I don't believe you." He tapped his fingers against Gabriel's stomach. "Tell me what's so beautiful that you're blushing."

"Wha—" Gabe feigned disdain. "I'm not blushing!" He frowned comically.

Sam let his fingers dance up Gabriel's side, along his ribs. "You are."

It was true. Gabriel's face and the back of his neck and his palms felt hot. He shook his head. "It's your fault." He stared out the window, steady and determined. "You're acting like—like... like an over-affectionate boyfriend. It's ridiculous." He flushed further.

Sam hummed thoughtfully. Glanced at Gabe's reflection in the window—flustered and pink-cheeked and more than a little hopeful. "Hey," he whispered. "I'll leave you alone, if you're uncomfortable. " He smiled and his lips curved against the heat emanating from Gabriel's neck. "It's just kinda cold, you know?"

"I'm... fine." Gabriel frowned. "I don't mind." He didn't move. He muttered, "You smell like fish."

Sam messed up his hair. "Shut up. Whose fault is that, jerk?"

Gabriel—sitting in his rather inconvenient position between Sam's thighs—ignored Sam and let himself be held in place while he watched the sky.

...

Sam fiddled with the phones, and finally managed to shove his battery into Gabriel's cellphone. It got better service, otherwise he'd use his own. When it dinged on, it had three bars. Much more than he'd expected. Perhaps they were nearer to civilization that he'd thought. Or else Finland just had really great cell phone service, as long as the weather cooperated. He found the Hotel Kakslauttanen's phone number, and managed to get connected to an English-speaking staff member after a few minutes of confused chattering back and forth.

He glanced over at Gabriel, who slept on his side in an awkward pose with his ankle elevated on his backpack. Explained their situation, and their surroundings, to the person on the phone. He was assured a rescue team would find them soon—the hotel had been unable to send anyone out previously due to the ferocity of the storm.

He thanked them and hung up. Made his way over to the bed and pushed lightly at Gabe's shoulder. "Hey," He leaned down. "Wake up."

Gabriel sighed, and opened his eyes. Hadn't been completely asleep, then. "What is it?" He looked exhausted and gray.

"They're gonna find us soon," Sam pushed Gabriel into a temporary sitting position, so he could settle down on the bed and let Gabe rest his head on his lap. "Okay?"

Gabriel closed his eyes. "Good. I've got pins and needles in my whole ankle." He grimaced.

Sam squeezed him.

...

By the time they were found, it was just after what might normally be lunchtime, and the sun was setting.

The entire situation turned into kind of a blur of Finnish and accented but precise English and careful maneuvering. Sam felt sure he'd fallen asleep at some point on the way to the hospital's medical center—the sprain was much too severe not to get immediate attention.

He charged his phone with a borrowed cord, while they x-rayed Gabriel's ankle. Almost the second he turned it on, the screen lit up with notifications. Dean had texted him twenty times. Starting out normal with, "Hey, just checking in, Sammy" and slowly escalating to "Sam, please text me back." Clear to "Sam, I'm worried" and ending with just "SAM." He had one voicemail, too. Held the phone to his ear to hear what Dean had said.

"Hey, little brother. I'm worried about you. You usually check your phone pretty often. Please, call me back."

Sam hit speed-dial. The phone rang only once before Dean answered with a breathless, "Sammy?"

"Hey, Dean, listen—"

"Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?!"

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean." He pushed his hair out of his face. "We got stuck somewhere and we didn't have service." He leaned back against the wall and crossed one leg over the other, loosely.

"Stuck? Stuck where?"

"Um..." Sam cleared his throat. "In a blizzard?"

"WHAT?!"

"Dean! It's fine! I'm fine, Gabriel's fine now, we're good." He glanced up, to see Gabriel scowling from the other end of the hall with a pair of crutches under his armpits and a walking boot on his foot. "Listen, Gabriel's got his cast, we're gonna go back to his family's place in Helsinki, and I'll write you a very detailed e-mail. Okay?" He stood.

"...Fine. Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam hung up, and slid his phone into his pocket after unplugging it. He met Gabe halfway down the hall, and led him outside, where the maid Sam had seen on the first night sat waiting with a smallish yet still expensive looking van. He rolled his eyes. He and the maid—her name was Sofia—helped Gabriel into the back of the van, with his crutches laid on the floor in front of him. Sam sat up front. Sofia drove.

The drive took quite a while, but it honestly let Sam relax a bit. And the monotony—probably the painkillers as well—sent Gabriel right to sleep.

He ended up carrying Gabe inside, while Sofia took their things back and forth from the van to the house. Gabriel barely stirred as Sam set him on his bed, and only let out a quiet breath against the pillows when Sam covered him over with the blankets. Sam pushed his hair back from his eyes with a sigh. Left for his own room, and fell into bed.

...

"Next year," Gabriel shifted so his leg was supported more comfortably. "We're going to somewhere warm and safe. Like the Bahamas. Or Rome." He smirked at his pancakes.

Sam snorted. "I'm okay with that, I think."

Gabriel smiled at him.


	3. 3: Of course not

"Nice cane, by the way."

Gabriel raised his middle finger, as he walked into the elevator, but grinned. "Shut up, Winchester." He let himself bump lightly against Sam's shoulder. "The doc said to take it easy even though I got the cast off, and to try not to put weight on it." He shrugged. "Said I might re-sprain it if I'm not careful enough."

Sam nodded. "Oh, I see." He smirked, and snaked his arm around Gabe's shoulder, stabilizing him somewhat. Also just to be annoying. Gabriel rolled his eyes, leaning against Sam while the machinery hummed. The elevator lurched and dinged. Sam extricated himself from Gabriel and patted the top of his head before slipping into the hallway, and shot a wave over his shoulder. Gabriel wiggled his fingers at him.

Sam sighed.

As he made his way down the hall, Ava Wilson practically skipped toward him. She bumped his leg with her hip and gave him an expectant grin.

"Did you carry his briefcase for him, Mr. Winchester?" Her eyebrows bounced up and down, comically. "Or did you just give him your letterman jacket?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He grinned down at her, though, and slung an arm around her narrow shoulders, tugging her close. "Is there a law against friends riding the elevator together when they both get to work at the same time?"

Ava wrapped her right arm around his waist. "Yes," Her little kitten heels tapped against the floor. "'Cause I'm pretty sure I saw you getting out of that car of his."

"So?" Sam's incredulous smile widened.

"So," Ava waved her free hand wildly at her side. "Are you like... You know... Together?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "What? _No_." He shook his head with a soft laugh. "No, of course not. We're friends, Ava. That's all."

Ava peered up at him, frowning far too deeply to be sincere. "Whatever you say." She stuck her tongue out. "Later, loser." She slapped him on the back and pulled away, to run back down the hall toward her nook of an office, where she worked as Naomi's secretary. Sam waved at her, and when she'd disappeared from sight, he deflated a little bit.

He loved Ava, but she was... very frank about her opinions. Like a little sister, really. Her and Jo both, though thankfully Jo worked elsewhere.

He made his way to his crappy cubicle, finally, and settled into the almost-but-not-quite-comfortable chair before turning his computer on. He hoped the day would remain fairly slow. He kind of wanted to sit around and think and stare at the ceiling, rather than help assholes with their expensive tech.

He sighed.


	4. 4: Tie one on

Sam sat at a table, sandwiched between Gabriel and Balthazar. He wondered what he had done to deserve such torture, but as it was one man constantly leaned against him and the other kept trying to play footsie with him. Both were drunk. And he had been designated as the driver.

He stirred his orange juice and soda water while Gabriel continued to reel off some lewd story about the previous year's Christmas sexcapades. Balthazar, of course, augmented the tales of mistletoe and spiked eggnog with his own fanciful and completely inappropriate comments. Sam pointedly ignored both of them.

Until, that is, he heard his name.

"Huh?" He glanced down at Gabriel.

Gabe rolled his eyes. "I saaaaaaaid, 'how 'bout you, Sammy'? Who's the last person you smooched?" He laughed into his Aqua Velva (the cocktail, not the aftershave). "Were they cuuuute?" A dopey grin dominated his face, and he rested his chin on folded hands, batting his eyelashes.

"You're drunk."

Gabriel squinted at Sam. "Ssssooooo? Answer meeee!"

"Fine." Sam laid his hands flat on the table. "The last person I kissed was a girl I met at an art gallery. We went on a couple of dates, but decided not to become a couple. She was very cute." He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows and glared at Gabriel. "Happy?"

Balthazar laughed. Gabe shushed him with a snap, frowning at Sam as seriously as he could. It looked more comical than anything else, though. Sam held back a grin. They glared each other down, mouths twitching, while Balthazar tittered to himself behind his drink.

"I'm happy." Gabriel finally cracked into a beaming smile and leaned back in the booth. "Now tell me when." He crossed his arms. Settled into his seat with a little shimmy of his shoulders. He tapped Sam's shin with his good foot.

Sam snorted, looking down at the table. "You're nosy." He fiddled with his glass of orange juice. "It was a couple of years back, or whatever." He shrugged, and looked up. "Why do you wanna know so bad?"

"Are you that dense?" Balthazar, shoved his appletini aside incredulously. "I mean, he's obviously—" He found himself interrupted by the sudden shove of Gabriel's palm against his mouth. He raised his eyebrows, nose wrinkling, and peeled Gabe's sweaty hand away from his face. "Fine, never mind." He scowled.

Gabriel smirked, and sipped at his own drink, ignoring the strange look Sam shot him.

Eventually, Balthazar left. He claimed he needed to be somewhere. Caught a cab.

Sam and Gabriel were left alone.

"Well!" Sam stood and helped Gabriel get out of the booth, taking the other man's cane in one hand and tugging Gabe's arm around his waist so he could assist him out to the car. Gabriel swayed worryingly as they left the hot interior of the bar and popped out into the coolness of the California winter. Sam tightened his grip around his shoulders. He got the car open, and bundled Gabriel into the passenger seat, and walked around the other side so he could drive.

Gabriel fell asleep while Sam drove them (at a reasonable, legal speed) to Gabriel's house. He supposed he'd have to stay at Gabe's that night, or else try to catch a cab or bus home. Staying there sounded much more appealing, if he were totally honest. He carried Gabriel from the (massive) garage to the (equally massive) house, and ignored the fact that he'd just walked past four expensive cars, and also ignored the immense orb of frosted glass that was evidently a chandelier in the entrance hall, and then ignored the blindingly colorful yet soft carpeting and... Well, he basically ignored everything.

Not that it was easy.

Sam recalled a design class he took back in college. They had covered many people, but one who stuck out to him in particular had been Karim Rashid. Gabriel's house reminded him a little of that designer. Unique shapes, vibrancy and modernism, fluid and geometric forms. The windows were massive and the walls were black and the flooring came in highlighter shades of blue and orange and violet and pink. All of the furniture was white. Doorknobs were glass, and the ceilings were painted like the sky, and every door was a different color—pastel green, wine red, neon purple, sky blue.

He found Gabriel's bedroom with a surprising amount of ease. Then again, a slick glass G edged in silver adorned the door.

Opening the door, Sam expected something equally as terrifying as the hallways. What he got instead were washed out shades of blue, cream and copper. A very subtle, gentle color scheme. Periwinkle walls and off-white wood flooring, and baby blue sheets. More whitish wood for the dresser and the windowsills and the door itself. Brushed copper knobs and light switch covers.

Pleasant.

A total departure from the rest of the house. Sam found it interesting that the same door would have two completely different doorknobs. He shook his head and laid Gabriel on his bed—at least a king size. Gabriel finally stirred, then, and mumbled something nonsensical and unintelligible. He managed to squint at Sam for half a second before pouting and shutting his eyes. He rolled onto his side.

Sam huffed out a quiet laugh, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Gabriel, I need you to tell me where your guest room is." He leaned over to try and look at Gabe, but Gabriel buried his face in the sheets and whined. Sam rolled his eyes. "I know you're sleepy, but please..."

Gabriel's face pinched, as he twisted to glance up at Sam. He frowned. "Sleep here." His voice slurred, but Sam at least understood what he said. "'M cold."

Sam sighed. But he nodded and said, "Scoot over." He took off his jeans, because he'd rather not sleep with his legs wrapped in denim, and shoved Gabe over. Gabriel smiled at him, trying (and failing) to be helpful as Sam pulled the blanket up over them. After a few minutes, the motion-sensing light flicked off and they were bathed in darkness.

...

Sam almost felt bad for Gabriel. "You shouldn't have had so much to drink last night."

Gabe glared at him from where he lay in his bed, curled around a hot water bottle. He tugged a pillow over his head. "Screw you." His voice may have been weak and muffled, but it contained plenty of ire as well. He also sounded absolutely miserable. Further evidenced by a little whine when he scrunched his knees up tighter against his body.

"Hey," Sam spoke softly, as he tapped Gabriel's shoulder. "Do you have any food in your house? Bread, and stuff?"

Gabriel snorted. "What kind of person do you think I am?" He peeked out from under the pillow, squinting, eyes a little bloodshot. "I have a godly kitchen. Now leave me alone. Your voice is too loud."

Sam rolled his eyes, turning away. He found his way to the kitchen—very, well, kitschy, to be honest. Very sixties. The refrigerator was seafoam green. He rummaged around, looking for whatever he could. Gabriel had not been lying when he called his kitchen "godly." It may have been one of the most well-stocked kitchens Sam had ever seen. It rivaled Dean's kitchen. And everything was high-quality. Or homemade. Sam wondered if Gabriel cooked, or a maid. Though he had seen a total of zero servants in his brief time there.

He cut some clearly hand-baked bread into thick slices and shoved them into the toaster oven, pulling out butter from the fridge and flipping through cupboards for honey. He found the honey in a heavy glass jar, thick and opaque. Raw apple blossom honey. He raised his eyebrows, and set it on the counter while he returned to the refrigerator for eggs and kale. He also grabbed a pack of peppermint tea.

Fairly quickly he had a decent meal to "cure" a hangover. He'd deal with his own breakfast later, but for the moment he toted his stuff upstairs and made his way back to Gabriel's bedroom. He opened the door with his foot and set the food down on a desk in the corner of the room, temporarily, so he could help Gabriel sit up.

"Here," Sam pressed a pink mug of peppermint tea into Gabriel's hands. "I made you breakfast." He retrieved the actual food as well, setting it on the little nightstand beside Gabe's bed. Gabriel looked back and forth between eggs and tea and Sam's face, and grinned.

"Thanks, Sam." Gabriel glanced away and sipped from his tea. His face seemed pinker than normal, but it may have been from lying in bed with a headache, so Sam thought nothing of it. He watched Gabriel for a moment before standing and moving to leave again. But Gabriel said, "Wait."

Sam frowned, looking over his shoulder. "What is it?" He turned to face Gabriel more easily.

Gabe shrugged. "Are you... going home?"

"Uh—No, I was gonna make myself some... oatmeal, or something." Sam scratched the back of his neck. "I can't really go home until you're good to drive, anyway. Well, I mean—" He snorted. "I could just take the bus, huh?"

Gabriel shook his head—and winced. "Don't take the bus. I can drive you." His expression verged on the beginnings of a puppy-dog face, and he looked a little pathetic in his giant bed with his bird's nest hair and slightly-too-large mug.

Sam shot him a grin. "Fine, I'll stay longer." He turned away. "But I'm still making myself breakfast." So saying, he popped back out into the hall, to go cook himself something appetizing.

Gabriel watched the door after he left, sipping his tea and nibbling on his cold, honey-smeared toast.


	5. 5: And fly with me

Sam stared down at Gabriel.

"You're joking." He eyed the pile of fabrics in Gabe's arms. "Please tell me you're joking."

Gabriel, grinning, shoved the clothing into Sam's hands. "No way, angelface." He planted his hands on his hips. "I got it for you to wear to the New Year's party!" His smile was broad and eager and Sam wanted to smear it away.

"It's—" Sam tugged at a stray piece of white fabric. "It's white—I can't wear an all-white suit!"

Gabriel raised one eyebrow high. "It's not 'all-white.' It's white and red and black." He whirled away from Sam. "Now go put it on." He grabbed a long, flat box—gold with embossed black letters—and pranced away toward his walk-in closet, calling over his shoulder, "You can use the bathroom or strip right there! I don't care!"

Sam rolled his eyes, and looked down at the expensive suit he was expected to wear. He shrugged, and gave in, stripping down to his socks and briefs and tank top. He pulled on the wine colored dress shirt, with its mother-of-pearl buttons, and tucked that into the white slacks, and half-tangled himself in the matching white suspenders. But he figured it out. On with a black necktie, and black socks that were much softer than those he normally wore. White vest, white jacket, with pockets with trim that matched the shirt. He supposed it wasn't so bad after all. He still felt weird in so much snow-colored fabric. He eyed the matching shoes. They looked very expensive. Leather, and maroon and black and white, with buttons in place of laces.

He felt like his hair ought to be pulled back, or something, to be less informal. So he rummaged through his jeans for the plain black elastic hair tie he often kept in his pockets, and tugged his hair into a very loose bun-type thing at the base of his skull.

A whistle sounded from behind him, and he spun. And froze.

"Gabriel—that's..." He floundered for words.

"Dashing?" Gabriel smirked. "Flattering? Glamorous?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Very pink." His eyebrows shot up, threatening to escape past his hairline.

Gabe smoothed his hands down the side of his nicely flared, double-breasted jacket—it was hot pink with black buttons. Blinding. Good contrast with his black shirt and teal bow-tie. It actually... looked really good, despite its color. The fit of the whole suit flattered Gabriel's build nicely. Sam realized, not for the first time, that Gabriel was actually a pretty good-looking guy.

"Stop staring and do a little twirl for me." Gabriel winked at Sam, and Sam rolled his eyes but obliged with his arms spread just a little bit. Gabriel looked him up and down. "Fantastic! But it needs one thing." He turned to the vase of white roses beside his bed, snatching a pair of scissors from God knew where. He trimmed the stem of one flower just a bit, and shook the rose off. "For your hair."

Sam scowled. "You're not putting a flower in my hair."

"Yes, I am." Gabriel bounced over to Sam and waved the rose in his face. "You look incomplete without it!" He reached up and tugged Sam's head down so he could reach properly. Sam let him stick the rose through his hair tie, so that his bun was sided by the smallish white bloom.

Gabriel pulled back a step and swept his eyes over Sam. "There we go. You look beautiful." He smiled softly.

"I—" Sam frowned and looked away from Gabriel, to the window. "I don't think that's the right word." He shifted on his feet.

"It's the right word." Gabriel snatched at Sam's hand and kissed the knuckles. "Trust me." He let Sam's hand drop, and ran from the room, shouting, "Now come on! We're gonna be late!"

Sam lingered in the doorway, face red, before following.


	6. 6: We'll be

People filled the Domini household to the brim, spilling out the doors and hanging from windows in some places, under the high glittering chandeliers. Sam felt like he'd been sucked into The Great Gatsby, whirled around, and then spat back out into modern day high-class America. It was a little overwhelming. So he found the first person he knew—Castiel Novak, a cousin of Gabriel's—and made a beeline for him.

Rather than his normal wear, Cas was decked out in a navy blue suit that fit him quite well and looked more expensive than his usual work suit. He greeted Sam with a subdued but toothy grin and a firm handshake. Dean stood beside him looking decidedly terrified, in his shabby black polyester suit.

"Sam, I feel so poor."

Sam laughed. "I know what you mean." He rolled his eyes, and glanced surreptitiously at the extravagance surrounding them. "These people are loaded."

Gabriel snorted beside Sam—having followed him over—and poked his back. "Relax."

"I'm relaxed." Sam frowned, twisting away. "Sort of."

Gabriel smirked up at him and shook his head. He slid his hands into his pockets and looked around at the fellow partygoers, with their champagne and appetizers and silks and diamonds. He seemed to spot something he'd been looking for, and raised his arm with a shout of, "Hey, Goddess!"

A woman in a slinky red dress with curly black hair glanced over her shoulder. She smiled like a predator and made her way over in black pumps that glittered all over with silvery scales, her waist draped with more silver and her throat adorned with a skull. She reached them and slid silk-clad fingers across Gabriel's shoulder.

"Gabe, darling." She blinked, slow and catlike. "Always a delight to see you."

Gabriel grinned. "Kali!" He pecked her on the cheek. "How long's it been?"

Sam recognized her, then. Gabriel's ex. He tilted his head curiously. He wondered how someone like Gabriel had been with someone like Kali, but decided that thinking too hard on it would just sprain his brain. He held out a hand, awkwardly, and mumbled, "I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you."

Kali seemed almost surprised. She took his hand, and her grip was firmer than he expected. "Sam Winchester?" She grinned. "I've heard so much about you, and let me just say that you are quite the piece of meat." Her lips were blood red.

Sam blinked. "Uh." He couldn't think of anything much more intelligent than that.

Gabriel swatted Kali's shoulder. She brushed him way, black silk gloves glistening in the bright light from the crystal chandeliers above.

Sam looked away blushing.

He didn't see Gabriel glance between him and Kali, and he didn't see the subtle drop of his shoulders. Instead, he saw the bosses of his boss across the room. Michael Domini in blue and Nicholas Domini in warm plaid. Sam's mouth quirked. Brown plaid suit, like that Hannibal guy on TV. He looked away from them, and observed the other guests. He knew very few people. Naomi was not there. Another of Gabriel's exes was there, though—Balthazar. Everyone else was a stranger in fine clothing.

Kali had gone off somewhere, and Dean had pulled Castiel toward the nearest foodstuffs. Gabriel was gone.

Sam looked around.

He felt very alone and very conspicuous and out of place.

The lights dimmed and music began to drift from... somewhere. Slow and beautiful music, cellos and piano. An unfamiliar woman with gorgeous blonde ringlets pulled Sam into a waltz. Their dance didn't last very long though, once she discovered Sam might as well have had two left feet or maybe no feet at all. He stepped on her twice before she whirled away to a redheaded lady.

Before Sam could really process her departure he had his arms full of a grinning Gabriel.

"You look lost, cupcake." He settled his arms around Sam's shoulders. "Need some help fitting in?"

Sam snorted, letting his hands drift to Gabriel's waist. "I need a lot of help to fit in with these people." He allowed Gabriel to sway him back and forth and kept his feet firmly planted on the ground. "You belong here, but I certainly don't."

Gabriel shook his head. "No one really belongs here." He glanced away. "We're all trying desperately to impress each other." He slid a little closer, ceased swaying, and tightened his arms around Sam's shoulders, and laid his head against Sam's chest. "That's why I like being around you so much. You don't try to show off like a peacock. You're just there and you're solid."

"Gabriel... Are you drunk?" Sam stood still with Gabriel plastered against him.

Gabe laughed. "Why do you always ask me that?"

"Because you're not like this, usually."

Gabriel closed his eyes. "I'm always like this, Sam." He breathed softly. "I just never show it."

Sam said nothing—there was nothing _to_ say, really, to that kind of thing.

They stood still, plastered together in the middle of the floor surrounded by a crush of nameless people. Sam stared down at the crown of Gabriel's head—at the light highlighting it with copper. He lifted a hand to Gabriel's jaw and tilted his head back, and leaned down until their mouths met. It was... awkward... but it felt like a he'd been waiting to do it for years, and maybe he had without realizing.

Gabriel remained extremely still, and stopped breathing for several long seconds. When Sam pulled away, though, he reached both hands up, threading his small fingers through Sam's hair, and tugged him down for another kiss.

He stared at Sam hard and mumbled, "We're going to my place, now."

Sam nodded. "O—okay."

He let himself be pulled out into the cold night air, with Gabriel's hand clamped tight around his wrist. The frosty gravel crackled under their feet. Gabriel's slight limp sent a few pebbles skittering away, and he released Sam to get into the lavender Lexus.

The night sped by outside of the windows.

...

Gabriel, with his arms draped loosely around Sam's shoulders, stared up at him. He breathed slow and shallow, and his eyelids drooped, and he looked nothing short of shell shocked. Sam frowned, concerned. Pressed a light kiss to Gabriel's mouth.

"What's the matter?"

Gabriel blinked heavily. "Nothing." He shook his head, and smiled, and it was tinged with something strange. "Nothing, just... You're... here. With me." He closed his eyes. "I feel like it's a dream?"

"Why?" Sam trailed his mouth half-open down Gabriel's neck.

Gabriel shivered at his touch. "You're out of my league."

"What?" Sam sat up, looking down at Gabriel with raised eyebrows and confusion on his face. "Out of—Gabriel, I'm just an IT worker. You're... rich." He frowned.

Gabriel shook his head again, not opening his eyes. He slid his fingers along Sam's knees. "No... I mean, I am rich." He laughed, a little. "But you're so smart, and kind, and beautiful, and funny, and I'm just... You're so good Sam. And I'm just _me_." He let out a long breath from his nose.

Sam leaned back down to cover Gabriel with his body and kissed him simply and sweetly. "I _like_ just you," he whispered. It came out muffled against Gabriel's lips, and Gabriel laughed.

"See what I mean, Sammich?" He tangled his hands in Sam's hair. "You're amazing."

Sam smiled.


	7. 7: Wrapped up in silk

"I've never been kissed like that."

Sam's forehead creased as he frowned, and he glanced over at Gabriel. "Like... what?" He rolled onto his side. Draped his arm over Gabe's stomach.

"Like I'm special." Gabriel relished the feel of Sam's bare skin across his own. "Like I'm more than a walking pile of cash."

Sam breathed against Gabriel's temple, and pressed his lips there. And down his face, over his closed eyelids, on the tip of his nose, and on his thin lips and along his jawline and back to his mouth. He slid his hand up Gabriel's side and splayed his fingers across his chest.

"You _are_ special." Sam's hand slipped along Gabriel's ribs, one at a time. "Very special." He settled his weight on top of Gabriel—carefully, though—and shared his airspace. "Those other people were just blind."

Gabriel laughed.

He blurted out, "Sam, I love you." And then he held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut and said, "Pretend I didn't say that."

Sam kissed Gabriel deeply until he gasped for breath and when Gabriel had refilled his lungs Sam kissed him again, and again. Gabriel seemed to be softening and melting beneath him, limp-limbed and humming gently pleased sounds into Sam's mouth. Sam wrapped his arms around Gabriel and rested their foreheads together. He met Gabriel's eyes, and cracked a smile.

Gabriel grinned back at him.

(the end)


End file.
